Red Tainted Emerald
by Sunflowerprinting
Summary: Victorian AU, USUK – Life gave to Arthur, a male prostitute, all the dispirited things it had to offer. It gave him beauty and many riches but it was with Alfred he learnt about laugher and love.
1. Chapter 1

_This story is set in the 19th Century - some research was done, but apologies for any inaccuracies!_

The Victorian boy was covered by small pearls of sweat, which only enticed tonight's customers furthermore. The little golden hairs glued to his forehead, as well as his emerald eyes, forced them to pay like he was indeed a treasure. He smiled deceivingly as to not spoil the illusion. He spoke slowly and quietly as if his precious words demanded effort to catch. He played hard to get even thought he had been trapped since birth.

Firstly caged by his mother, to whom poverty never taught any humility. That is if a woman, who left three weeping children on the streets to freeze, can even be called a mother. The hero of that tale had been his older brother, who with inherited selfishness tried to save himself from the cold. The 8 year old had gone from door to door until someone pointed to the nearest orphanage. He set his path and only sparingly had he looked behind, to see his brothers of barely walking age trying to follow the only familiar figure. In the end, what mattered was that all three brothers lived and so he was indeed a hero, title worthy or not. It was in that orphanage that Arthur met his second cage, one he shared with many boys his age, all abandoned and working hard to one day find a job as an exploited factory worker or a chimney sweep. The strict education and frequent punishments only ended once he was hired as a housekeeper to a house of sinful proclivities. When Arthur was first deflowered he was already long past the age of his debut, which had only intrigued more gentleman as to how such a well-guarded fruit would taste.

Three summers passed since that bitter evening, but now at 21 years old he was no ordinary whore, at least he wasn't paid like one. So he kept playing his part perfectly, even if to him the seduction felt solely disgusting and his words were dripping with insecurity.

What are jewels good for other than looking pretty? They are merely objects unworthy of love, yet worthy of money. Love was once described to Arthur as a pleasure that hurt deeply, however Arthur knew that was a lie as soon as it left the man's lips. He had already felt that way many times and still love had never warmed him, not even in a mother's kiss or a brotherly hug, not in the countless times he gave his body away and never by his own reflected face.

The summer nights passed, sultry and quiet. Quiet…since Arthur only let his voice get as high as his desire, and so he only moaned weakly against the pillow. Every night the act was the same. His client would then leave and Arthur could finally clean himself using a silky towel and almond oil, an expensive gift for an expensive whore. Then he would sip his cup of tea, he could by then savour every drop without the unpleasant saltiness of tears mixing with the taste. After this ritual was complete he could then cover his skin once again as if it had never been exposed in the first place and start again.

At last the first rains started alleviating him from the suffocating smell of dirty sheets. Cloudy skies meant he could leave his room unafraid of an unsightly tan. He could, for half of the seasons, be a gentleman during the day and leave the cotton garments only for night time. Occasionally a man he knew would spot him and quickly turn his head away in shame. On those days Arthur would return dismayed from being denied such a simple fantasy.

That day, carefully hiding his shillings in one of his pockets, Arthur crossed the streets. He was hoping to buy an easy book for him to practice his reading and writing skills, still very incipient due to the lack of proper education. The young man continued down the road, stopping only briefly to eye the gentleman inside the cigar-shop, or the dog barking from behind the gate. He was looking at the window display of the book shop when a sudden forceful push almost forced him to kiss the glass. He looked back bitterly to the assailant, but upon seeing that quick side look of shame he knew so well on the others face, he stayed silent. He knew his place, he knew his social status.

"Will you forgive me the misconduct? I must confess I was paying no mind as to where I was going," said the stranger with an equally unfamiliar accent.

"I beg your pardon, have we met?" Arthur eyed the man suspiciously. If that shamed look hadn't been recognition, what was its meaning?

"I think not. Why do you ask?" The words had been polite enough but the childlike smirk on the other's face made Arthur feel uneasy.

"No reason. Anyway, all is fine so get on, my lad." shooed Arthur. "Surely you have important affairs to attend to."

"Not quite. It is, after all, nice to have pleasant conversations, wouldn't you agree?" At that Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"Look, I can tell you're a stranger in this area and you are a man of status, so just trust me when I say you want not be seen with me."

Alfred looked down, confused, but finally decided on doing as advised.

"I shall go then. Enjoy a pleasant afternoon."

With a final chuckle, Alfred started moving away. Arthur shook his head as if by doing so he could also shake off any sinful thought he might have had about the attractive foreigner. The action was unfruitful, but he quickly realized as a whore there's no need to be ashamed of such unsavoury thoughts.

"Wait!" Arthur reached to grab the other's sleeve but luckily regretted the movement before his hand made any contact. How embarrassed he would be… after all chasing a man meant an immediate reduction of his value.

"Yes?" The man beamed in his usual childish manner.

"Can I have your name?" asked Arthur faking innocence.

"Alfred… Alfred Jones."

"Tell me, would it strike you Alfred if I asked as to how your sexual desires have been met lately?" Just like that the act was on.

"I'm afraid I d-don't understand..." he stumbled but by the blush on his cheeks, the british prostitute knew just how well he had understood the words.

"Well Sir, allow me to rephrase. I would be charmed to be kept company by you this lonely night, if so was your wish." How Arthur managed to always word such seductions so naturally after they struggled intensely to die before reaching his tongue, he did not know.

"Sir, I can ensure you I know not of what you speak. I arrived to this country this dawn and I am scheduled to meet my possible fiancée for the first time tomorrow. So naturally I…" Alfred gradually lowered his voice. "I have yet to experience the first night."

The british man paled significantly, dropping his emerald eyes to the floor in embarrassment.

"Your nature seems far finer than the men I've known and I do not wish to lead you astray so I'll take my leave."

"Can I at least have your name or shall we never meet again?"

"It is Arthur Kirkland, but you would have better luck finding me as the boy from the Venus Salon.." Arthur paused. "However you ought not to go there if you are set on your puritan ways."

"Thank you for the advice. I thoroughly enjoyed our talk but we both must go now." Alfred smiled as he turned away.

As Arthur walked his way home, a sudden tightness ascended from his gut to his throat, to the point he almost choked on his tears. Oh, how he detested that bitter taste of meeting clean people. How he hated dreaming about being one of them, about being glad he had been born.

"What can it matter?! You're tainted already." And so Arthur cried.

_This story is posted on behalf of a dear friend, who has appeared previously on this account in collaborations, such as 'Colors of the Stained Glass Window.' _


	2. Chapter 2

Red flowers danced on the water. Flickering lights created by the water drops on his pale shoulders came and went. His wet fingers played with the warm liquid, while he stared at the ceiling, head filled with thoughts. Worried about the power he sometimes had over political or economic situations he did not want to possess; how if he told a secret from one of his patrons to another it could easily ruin a business. He cared not for extortions or rewards. He cared not for being mixed in society's petty schemes. He only cared about his trade, for that was the only thing he learnt to do. He knew of nothing else but how to seduce, how to create a mystifying atmosphere, of how his legs could… An energetic knock on the door forcefully interrupted his divagations.

"Arthur, you must hurry, a gentleman is here to see you. Oh, and how charming he is."

"Who is it, so early this time?"

"A Sir Alfred Jones. I haven't seen him round before." Arthur's eyes widened in a way his emeralds could be seen fully round.

"An American? Tall and blonde?" he confirmed.

"Yes. You would have to be a fool not to hurry."

Arthur rushed to get clothed, his garments slightly tamer for fear of judgment. He found Alfred sitting on a green sofa, next to one of the sinful beds of the establishment. The man quickly rose as Arthur entered the room but stood in silence for a few awkward minutes, analysing the worn carpet.

"Sir, it has been a week. I was not expecting a visit from you." It was Arthur who first spoke, finally indicating for both to get seated.

"I know. I shouldn't have come. You are but a stranger but I'm afraid this is a thought I can't share with anyone else…and I must talk. I do know a gentleman must not speak ill of anyone in their absence but…" Alfred went quiet again.

"Surely you are aware this is a place where society's rules matter not, so please speak your mind."

"Perhaps you do not remember I intended to marry an English lady I met only days ago. Surely we had written letters and both our families are on cordial terms. But to say I was disappointed would not be enough. She and her mother were absolutely distasteful. They went as far as teaching me what sins would be proper for a man of good-repute to confess at church. Does it seem possible that such hypocrisy can exist in a refined heart?"

"Oh, Alfred! You are too naive for your own sake!" answered Arthur, laughing.

"Why do you smile so at me? It is a serious matter." Alfred said not even attempting to tame his own grin. "I am at a loss!"

"Perhaps you will find pleasure in your interactions if you try to look past the first appearance."

"What if I find that nothing is more disheartening than engaging in such conversations?"

"Then I believe you must find some source of delight in your misery. Perhaps by smoking cigars or going with gentlemen to the theatre. I'm sure you'll find others in the same predicament." he said mischievously.

"Arthur!" he gasped, faking shock "You would advise someone such misfortune?!"

"Surely not all of those who are wealthy are agreeable and yet I find them all to be married quickly. So my proposition can't be that inconceivable…"

"That is of little consequence to me, it is upon who I favour mostly that I place my concern. And upon meeting her and her mother, I am afraid it would terribly mar my opinion on Londoners had I not met you before. I beg pardon but I would think perhaps it was the rainy weather that turned the people, alike the streets, muddy." Arthur answered that comment with a laugh.

"That is quite a way of putting it, my friend."

That evening, Alfred told him all about his trip, his interests and his potential fiancée. They talked like they had been friends for years. In the small rooms the daylight grew dimer and dimer until Alfred finally had to rush to his hotel room, leaving Arthur to his night obligations.

Ironically, it was on whom society vested the immorality cloak that Alfred found integrity, a man who received him with no pretences and no camouflage. His next visit had been justified by the need to thank Arthur for his advice and attention, a visit every etiquette book would encourage. However, soon, Alfred would find himself talking away his afternoons without any particular reason, other than enjoying the other's company. As Arthur started opening up more and more, he uncovered how bitterly he felt about Alfred's peers. It was the acidity of a trapped bird, a bird that deserved and aspired to more than societal exile, and yet would die if set free to the wilderness of people's norms. It came a bit as a shock how much he wished he could take him under his protection and show Arthur all he had seen, to take him to America and to the parties in London. Although perhaps what shocked him the most was how often he found himself imagining inviting Arthur to dance a quadrille with him on such balls.

On a breezy evening, a month after the first visit, Alfred came rushing in. He ran up the stairs, missing every odd step. His familiarity with the place allowed him to release his inner child.

"Arthur, I can't possibly keep this any longer. She must … A-Arthur! You are undressed!"

"Of course I am. One must be undressed in order to get dressed, which was precisely what I was doing when you came barging in!" Arthur said, not fazed by his own naked state. "Is it your intention to remain there, standing in some semi-conscious state for the rest of the evening?! My God, Alfred, how prudish you are! You are red to the ears!"

How Alfred found himself seated outside, waiting, he did not know. All he could remember was how the sunset light perfectly drew Arthur's silhouette, how his eyes had slid down the delicate spine from neck to bottom. His lip still throbbed from how hard his own teeth had sunk into it. When Arthur opened the door, Alfred was certain that, in his imagination, he would no longer be asking him just for a dance...


End file.
